Mumbai - Day Minus One
Today is all about the visa. We all fly tomorrow, and the visa company I attempted to use has let me down - even after sending my passport to Edinburgh and Liverpool. Alledgedly. Unfortunately, today is also a hellish busy work day - two big meetings at the London Development Agency and dinner to start the consultation on th Mayor of London’s new strategy for Employment and Skills.
I arrive, suited and booted, at 9am outside the Indian High Commission. At this early hour, the queue already winds back from the little ticket windows, up on to the Strand, round past the BBC and on and on - at last a 1000 people, maybe more. Colleagues have already done this, with one of the quickest times being 45 minutes. Don’t queue, waive the letter of introduction from the British High Commissioner around - in short be less British and more Indian! And it works - the man in charge of entry looks at the letter and passes me a ticket. He also passes a lot of other people at the front of the line tickets, people who have not been queueing from as early as 4am! My ticket says come back at 2pm - which is perfect as that is when my meetings stop. It all feels good!
But then…. Back at 2pm. School-boy error. The slight air of panic that had been there in the morning - some people waiting for over two days to try and get a visa, had now ratched up a notch or two. The Visa Hall was mobbed. An electronic counter started ticking up - it was on 7 - my ticket was 238. This was going to take a while. Another piece of advise was to barge straight to the front of the desk - perhaps too many of these delegates had done this - the consulate staff where having none of it.
As I was waiting, I looked around at my fellow would-be travellers. One guy a spoke to was going out with 50 of his family for religious festival - from Southall he had never been to India before. Businessmen, charity workers, tourist of the hippy and the chav variety, Indians; we all waited. £30 and a brief chat, then a wait for the visa to be processed. This took too long - “is there a problem?” I asked. “What are you filming? Where is your filming permit?”. A UKTI Post Production Trade Mission/Film London Film Producers Tournament had obviously been lost in translation - so once cleared up I get my passport with my new shiny Indian Visa.
As I head in the cab for dinner I think that if India really wants to start doing business with the UK, properly, then there has got to be a better way than this. But I am also reminded of my time, years ago, when I lived in Egypt. In order to survive and not die young of stress-related illness you have to just go with the flow a little. There is no point getting angry and shouting - persistence, politeness, firmness and a underlying believe that it will all be ok is what is vital.
A little bit of the Indian sub-continent in the heart of London - tomorrow the real thing!
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